


It Was Nice To Feel Warm Again

by Masterless



Series: Even's Past [1]
Category: Skam - Fandom
Genre: Pre Evak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 01:03:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9633134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masterless/pseuds/Masterless
Summary: Split knuckles.Even’s hands were trembling, throbbing. He could feel his chest rising and falling rapidly, but he didn’t think he was actually breathing. The skin on his hands felt tight, even though it was split. He could see the blood on his hands, feel the hot pumping in his skin, but there was no pain. It would come later.





	

Split knuckles.

Even’s hands were trembling, throbbing. He could feel his chest rising and falling rapidly, but he didn’t think he was actually breathing. The skin on his hands felt tight, even though it was split. He could see the blood on his hands, feel the hot pumping in his skin, but there was no pain. It would come later.

He couldn’t really remember what the fight had been about, but Even knew Mikael deserved it. He always does, he always runs his mouth, almost begging for someone to hit him. Even remembered Mikael going on some girl he had slept with, saying something derogatory as usual. But Even didn’t want to hear it, not today. Mikael said something about the girl's body and Even snapped. His fist connected with Mikael’s cheek, and he just kept hitting. Mikael fought back, and while he was bigger and most likely stronger, he wasn’t as angry as Even.

Mikael’s face was bloody and busted up, his lips split and his eyes bruised and puffy.

Even’s hands were bloody and bruised. He stared down at Mikael, who was groaning and coughing on the floor of the school cafeteria, and felt bile rise up in his throat.

“Dude,” came a voice from behind them. “What the fuck?”

Even looked up at the circle of people around them, his breath catching in his throat. He stood and pushed his way through the throng of students, tripping over his own feet on the way. He ran through the halls of Bakka, pushing the front doors open and running. His feet slapped the pavement, pushing him farther and farther away from the sound, from the people, from the blood.

Even found himself in a woods, knelt down between two trees as he vomited. He spluttered and coughed, heaved his lunch and breakfast onto the leaf strewn ground.

He was running again, losing time. He still had blood on his hands, his knuckles throbbing with pain now, unconscious tears streaming down his face.

Even was home, pushing open the front door, stepping into the hall and toeing off his shoes.  
In the bathroom, washing the blood from his broken skin, shaking and watching as the water stained pink and trickled away. He looked up at his reflection, not really recognizing the look in his eyes, but the familiarity of the feeling inside his chest was terrifying. He was crying again, the skin under his eyes felt tight and hot. He was sobbing, kneeling down with his forearms still resting on the lip of the sink. He cried out, filling the silence of the house with pain.

Even was in bed, lost time, staring at the ceiling as it grew darker outside. His parents would be home soon. They would wonder at the dried blood on the sink. 

It was morning, and mama was opening the door. She was crying, looking in on her oldest son as he laid motionless beneath his blankets.

Lunch time, and papa was sitting next to him, offering him food and a drink. He placed a warm hand on Even’s shoulder, but it itched and burned. Even pulled away, onto his side, closing his eyes. A tear slipped down his cheek, landing on the sheets with an almost inaudible tap.

It was dark again. Even felt a pang of hunger deep in his stomach, but he didn’t get up. He pulled his blankets up to his chin, closed his eyes.  
Morning again. Mama was back, kneeling in front of him. He could see her, but it was like she wasn’t there. Her voice was static in his ears, he couldn’t make sense of what she was saying. She was smiling at him, but she was hurting on the inside.

“Even,” she said. “Do you want something to eat?”

He rolled away from her, on to his other side, looking to the wall. She sighed and fixed his blankets, leaving the room with one last backwards glance to her son.

It was his bladder that finally got him out of bed. He shuffled his way to the bathroom, pissed, and was on his way back when he heard them talking.

“It's been three days,” his mother was saying. “This is the worst he's ever gotten.”

“What do you think we should do?” his father asked. “Call a doctor? How would we get him to go?”

A sigh. “I don't know. I just know that we have to help him. He was nearly expelled, he isn't getting up, he won't eat.”

“I know.” The sound of shuffling fabric. They are hugging, Even knew. “We need to help him.”

Even was in bed again, curled up around himself. He was so hungry he felt like he was going to be sick. He groaned quietly, pulling himself out of bed and down to the kitchen. It was dark, and the fridge light almost blinded him. He rummaged through, stuffing his mouth with salami and cheese, taking a bite out of a cold fish cake, slurping down some orange juice. He felt the juice spill down his chin, but he was too intent on eating to care.

“Even?” It was his dad.

Even greeted him, but it came out as a muffled grunt.

“Are you…. what are you doing?” He stepped closer to Even, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Even, you've made a mess.”

Even looked down at himself, swallowing his mouthful. “Sorry.”

“It's fine.” His dad wrapped his arms around Even. “You're up. You're okay.”

Even smiled and leaned into his father's embrace. “Papa, I think we both know I'm not okay.”

His father sighed. “I know.”

Even was back in bed, but not his own. He was between his parents in their bed. 

“Are you going to make me go back to school tomorrow?”

“Nei,” Even’s mother said, stroking his hair. “You can stay home.”

“I called a doctor,” Even’s father said. “If you feel up to it, we can go on Saturday.”

“Okay.”

Even fell asleep between his mother and his father, feeling their warmth. 

It was nice to feel warm again.


End file.
